Arctic Wargame - Страница 31

“Don’t move,” Justin shouted. He leaned against the wall, raising his gun and squinting in search of the invisible attacker.

Floorboards cracked under heavy footsteps, but he could not see anyone. A second later, he noticed a small shadowy silhouette running toward him. Before he could make out the person’s face, a swift kick to the stomach knocked the air out of him. The shadow overtook him. Two strong arms lifted him and shoved him through the door.

He looked up just as Alisha’s left fist closed in on his right temple. His body smashed through the staircase rail. He became airborne for a second or two before dropping into the three-foot deep snow covering Tania’s backyard.

The fresh snow softened his fall, and the icy feeling on his head and neck pumped up his surviving instinct. Feeling dizzy and noticing his vision was blurry, Justin threw a handful of snow on his face. He repeated the motion again, until the fuzzy curtain covering his eyes began to fall. As he climbed back to his feet, Alisha was shoving someone who looked like a small-statured woman toward a nearby pickup truck.

“Anna! Ned! Where are you guys?” Justin shouted at the top of his lungs. “Don’t let her go.”

He searched in the snow for his pistol and found it by his feet.

“Anna! Anna!” he kept shouting, while struggling to step out of the slushy, slippery snow.

Lights came on in one of the houses across the street. The truck turned the corner and vanished around a downhill curve.

Justin swore and jogged to Ned’s Land Rover.

“Oh my gosh,” Anna cried upon seeing Justin’s bruised and bloody face. “What happened to you?”

“Turn around and go left,” Justin instructed Ned. “Alisha took me by surprise. She’s gotten hold of Tania.”

Ned nodded without any of his usual wisecracks. The Land Rover roared and slid, but his experienced hands kept the car on the road. He made a quick U-turn, ramping up one of the smaller snowbanks and gave chase.

“There are paper towels in the glove box,” Ned said. “Alisha hits like a man.”

“And she’ll die like a man,” Justin vowed, cocking his pistol. He crumpled a couple of paper towels and dabbed at his forehead. The blood had started to coagulate, and his finger rubbed against the rising bump.

Ned kept snaking from one street to the other, always going east, but there was no trace of Alisha’s truck. Lights began to shine inside a few houses, as the rumbling car stirred up the sleeping town. As Ned eased around the corner next to the Health Center, almost slamming into an ice heap, a truck appeared ahead of them.

“There she is.” Justin tightened his grip around his gun. “Get closer.”

“I’ll try.” Ned pressed on the gas pedal. The Land Rover skid over a stretch of black ice for a couple of feet. Ned controlled the car, aiming toward the snowbanks to the right, to increase the tire traction.

“Where’s she going?” Anna asked. “We’re out of town.”

“Victor Bay,” Ned replied. “It’s about two miles south.”

“Maybe that’s where she hid our Eurocopter,” Justin added. “Speed up!”

“It’s not safe to go any faster,” Ned replied.

“Why not? She’ll get away.”

“She may, but we’re not gonna die trying to catch up to her.”

“Just gas it up, Ned.”

“Listen, I know this road. I drive it every day. It’s paper-thin.”

“What do you mean?”

“The ice cover. Look, right there on the shore. The erosion has been eating away at the ground. In the summer, we drive around these huge holes, six, seven feet deep. The snow and the ice fill them all up in the winter, and the road’s safe for small trucks going at low speeds.”

“So, we’re driving over the bay waters now?” Anna asked.

“Yes, we’re on pure ice.”

A loud crack exploded under the Land Rover’s tires, confirming Ned’s words. He slowed down even further. The taillights of the truck grew larger and glistened brighter. Alisha had finally found a use for her brake pedal.

“She’s slowing down,” Justin said.

“Yeah, but she’s still too fast. Way too fast,” Ned replied.

The distance between the Land Rover and the truck was about eighty feet now. The fog was quite thin, allowing for the blurry contours to be somewhat visible to the attentive eye.

Justin blinked in disbelief, as he thought he saw the square shape of the truck box fishtail very unusually. “What… what is she doing?” he asked.

Before anyone could reply, he got his answer. The truck twisted and turned, skidding and sliding on black ice. It seemed Alisha was able to regain control because the truck drove in a straight line for a couple of seconds. Then, it resumed its winding. A moment later, it slammed into a couple of ice blocks and bounced over a pressure ridge. It came down hard, plunging through the thin sheet of ice.

“Oh, crap, crap, crap,” Justin shouted, watching the truck nosedive into the frigid waters. Unless they were very careful, they could meet the same fate.

“Are they… are they dead?” Anna asked.

“No… I hope not,” Justin replied quickly, “but they will if we don’t pull them out.”

Ned stopped at a safe distance. The Land Rover’s headlights lit up the scene of the accident. The truck had already vanished underwater. Small ice crystals were floating over the open pit. They could still hear loud cracks. It’s probably the truck sinking deeper.

“How deep’s the water here?” he asked, stepping out of the Land Rover. He removed his leather jacket.

“It’s not supposed to be deeper than seven, eight feet, but if it gobbled up the truck like that…”

“You’re not thinking—” Anna shouted.

“It may already be too late, but I’ve got to do this.” Justin treaded slowly toward the pit.

“No, you don’t.” Anna followed him, reaching for his arms. “Don’t go. Don’t do this.”

Justin sat down on the edge of the pit. The ice sheet cracked and bent under his weight.

“Stay back,” he shouted at Anna. “The ice is cracking.”

She nodded and moved back.

He took a deep breath and whispered a quick prayer. Then, he let his body slide down into the dark pit.

* * *

The sharp claws of frigid waters tore at his skin. The water crept from all sides, filling his boots and climbing up his pants. Justin felt the numbness starting to petrify his hands. The feeling pressed on him the urgency of the rescue. His entire body jerked in a series of throes, his muscles beginning their involuntary contractions.

He lunged downward, blindly searching with his hands and feet. He did not open his eyes, afraid the seawater would instantly freeze them. He spun around and dove deeper, frantically thrusting his arms to all sides. All he could feel were broken ice pieces. Where did the truck go?

He felt the strong water current pushing him underneath the ice sheet and realized the truck had been dragged away. His feet struck something hard, which felt like rubber. Is that one of the tires? After a back flip, he stretched his hands toward the bottom of the pit. Yes, that’s a tire, he thought after touching the hubcap. His breathing became difficult, and he swam back to the surface.

“I’ve… brrrr… I found it,” he could hardly mumble, as he lifted his head over the slushy water. “Now… I should… pull… pull them out.”

“Justin,” Anna called. “Come out. You’re gonna freeze.”

“One… more… try.” Justin quivered as he took another deep breath, his muscles tensing. He braced himself for the return dive to the frozen hell.

This time he kept his eyes open. He blinked rapidly to fight the sharp needles of water puncturing his eyeballs and intensifying his jackhammer headache. Justin clenched his teeth and carried on, reaching the bottom of the pit. He found the truck tipped to its left side. Hypothermia was slowing his limbs movements and was shutting down his brain. What do I do now? Oh, yeah. Open the door. The passenger’s door!

As he reached for the door handle, a sudden movement inside the truck’s cabin startled him. He heard a weak thud and a horror-stricken face pressed against the window. Justin did not recognize the terrified eyes buried deep in their dark sockets, but he knew she was not Alisha. He read the terror in her lips. She was crying for help, shoving the door with her hands and her shoulders.

Justin tried prying the door open, but his vicious yanking was in vain. He gestured for the woman to lean back and stepped on the glass. He stomped his feet. The water was softening the impact of his boots. The glass was resisting his repeated attacks.

The woman’s motions were dwindling away. Justin wondered whether she was resigning to her fate. Maybe he was experiencing the early symptoms of hallucination. Suddenly, he felt a sharp object jab him on his hip. He lifted the bottom of his shirt, fearing an ice fragment had stabbed him. It was his M-9 pistol, its metallic barrel stuck to his skin.

The gun! I can use the gun to break the glass!

In a single, swift move, he pulled the gun from his right side, ripping a chunk of his skin. He slammed the gun muzzle against the glass as hard as he could, but there was no crack. After the fourth failed attempt, he gestured to the woman to hide behind the door frame. He placed the gun muzzle at the center of the glass and pulled the trigger.

Twice.

The first shot would have been enough for the job. The glass shattered, fragments raining over the woman’s head. Justin finished clearing the leftover glass pieces on the truck’s window frame and stretched his arms toward the woman. She grabbed his hands, and he pulled her out of the cabin. Once her body was outside the deathtrap, he lifted the woman by her waist. They swam together toward the blurry headlights gleaming over the water surface.